


Things Were Fine Until They Weren't

by Sherlock_has_the_Tardis_in221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Compassionate Sherlock, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Female Reader, Hurt/Comfort, John is a Good Friend, Reader-Insert, Relapse, Self-Harm, concerned!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock_has_the_Tardis_in221B/pseuds/Sherlock_has_the_Tardis_in221B
Summary: Reader and Sherlock are in an established relationship. Everything is fine until the reader's anxiety comes back causing  them to self harm. Fluff and comfort ensues. Set in season 1, but not canon.





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> Don't read if this will trigger you. Please be safe, my lovelies. Obviously, I don't own Sherlock or any parts of it.

You fidgeted and tried to focus on the professor lecturing about development during the fetal stages. Your mind kept wandering and you couldn't focus. You looked at your phone to see if you had any messages from Sherlock. You didn't expect to have any because he was on a case, but you wanted to check anyway. 

_No New Messages_

You sighed and put your phone away for the last 20 minutes of class. As soon as it ended, you threw your stuff in your bag and bolted. It had been a long week and your anxiety had popped up again, getting worse and worse throughout the week. You tried to block out the never-ending negative thoughts as you put in your headphones for the cab ride.  You couldn't wait to get home to Sherlock. 

The cab pulled up. You paid the driver and ran up the stairs, opening the door. You sighed when it didn't move. You hunted up your keys and unlocked the door to 221B. The flat was empty, but you half expected it since John was working and Sherlock was on a case that Lestrade needed help on. You flopped on the couch and started in on the homework you had. Uni was exciting, but exhausted. You were trying to go into medicine, but it proved harder than you thought, even with John helping you. You started doing your homework, halfway through a paper when the thoughts started.

_You can't do this. Why did you think you could? You're nothing. You're_ _worthless. You can't even clean the apartment. Look at this mess._

Your shook your head as if trying to clear it and then looked around. The apartment was messy, but no one had been home to clean it and Mrs. Hudson kept insisting that she wasn't your housekeeper. You decided to take a break to clean up. You started in the living room and put the dirty dishes in the kitchen, putting clothes in closets and hampers, and finished with a good dusting. More satisfied, you started in on the kitchen, which was a daunting task. Remains of Sherlocks' experiments, dirty dishes and other unidentifiable substances were everywhere. You submerged your hands in water and started to clean the dishes. You gasped when you almost dropped one. 

_You're so clumsy, you can't even wash the dishes. Why are you even trying? Sherlock doesn't even like you. You are just a stupid girl who he pities._

The thoughts continued as you tried to clean. They just kept coming and coming. You started to breathe quickly and shake as they kept assaulting you. Your mouth was dry and you couldn't feel anything. 

_oh no. I can't have an anxiety attack._

You tried to calm down and used the breathing exercises that John had told you about. It didn't help and the voices got louder. Your mind wandered to the knives that were in the kitchen and back to an old habit that you used to use. You haven't done it in a couple of months, but it usually got you to calm down, at least. Seemingly on autopilot, you dried your hands and shakily walked to get one from the drawer. Your mind was blank and in a fog as you held the steel knife by the black handle. You put it to your wrist and made a few cuts, going a little deeper with each one. As soon as your mind registered the pain, you almost dropped the knife in realization of what you had just done. Blood was dripping down your arm and onto your hand, falling to the floor in perfect, little drops of crimson. You slowly sank down to the floor and put your knees to your body with your arms crossed over your chest, resting them on your knees as tears slowly started falling down your cheek. Your chest was hurting and every breathe you took felt like you were breathing in fire.You started to process what you did to yourself. 

_Crap. What did just do? Sherlock is gonna be mad. I can't let him see me like this, but I can't move._

You needed Sherlock, regardless of what he was going to think. You couldn't move though. You had no sense of time or how long you were on the floor. You were completely in a fog, with exception to your thoughts. You faintly heard a door open, but it seemed far away, like background noise. You sensed a presence in front of you. It was John, he started to talk and his voice sounded muffled. You couldn't make out what he was saying, except that it was directed at you. You felt him touch you and you jerked away immediately, not wanting him to take the knife or touch you at all. He wasn't Sherlock.He couldn't help you. 

Unbeknownst to you, he texted Sherlock that you were having an anxiety attack and had hurt yourself. 

"Sherlock is on his way, (y/n)." John tried to reassure you. You focused on his name. He would be here soon. 

 


	2. Sherlock fixes Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock comes home and helps you. Fluff and a happy ending happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens afterward. Please be safe, my lovelies! Comment if you want more. I'll do requests. I'm good at writing this stuff because I have experience.

5 minutes.

That's how long it took Sherlock to run to 221B. His love was hurt and she needed him. From what John had texted him, he knew that you had hurt yourself and were unresponsive, but conscious. Whatever thoughts had caused that must have been bad because this hadn't happened in a few months. He ran up the stairs to 221B, but walked in slowly so as not to startle you. You didn't like loud nosies. 

Sherlock surveyed the situation as he took off his coat, scarf, and jacket. He rolled up his sleeves has he slowly walked toward you. You were curled up on the kitchen floor, still clutching the knife. You were shaking and crying, but otherwise not moving. John was kneeling beside you, trying to see your arm and get the knife away, but you weren't responding. 

He knelt down in front of you beside John. 

"I've tried to talk to her, but she won't respond still." John explained to him. 

"Get the first aid kit. I'll do the rest." Sherlock dismissed him. He was the only person who could help when you were like this and John knew it. He did as ordered. 

"Love? Love, can you hear me?" Sherlock, asked in a low voice. 

He knew that only soft calming words could get you to respond at this point. 

Your mind registered him and you nodded. It was so slight that you didn't know if he saw. Of course he saw though. It's Sherlock. He was a little relived, but he wanted to get the knife away from you. 

(Y/N), I need you to hand me knife please." He gently commanded. " I'm going to hold out my hand and you are going to put in in my hand, okay? " 

He slowly moved his hand under yours, careful not to touch you. 

You couldn't move. 

"Everything will be okay, (y/n). I'm not mad. It's okay. but you need to put the knife down" he softly reassured you. 

_He wasn't mad? What was he asking you to do?" Oh, right. The knife._

You slowly uncurled your fingers and dropped it n his hand. He put it to the side, out of your reach. 

"Good girl. Everything will be okay. " he praised you.

You nodded a little. 

"Can you talk yet, love?" he inquired. 

You shook your head no. 

"That's perfectly fine, love. Would you like to get up? John could look a your arm." He offered. 

At the mention of what you had done, you started crying even harder. 

"(Y/N), it's okay. No one here is mad, I promise. We should just patch you up and make sure it's nothing serious. If you'd like, I'll stay with you. Or I'll let you two handle it, whatever you want. No pressure either way." he reassure, trying to ease some of the anxiety that he knew you must be having. .

You didn't know if you could handle it without it. You mustered up the last of your energy and said one word, "Stay." 

He smiled. "Would you like to do it now? I can carry you, if you'd like." he offered.

You leaned toward him a bit to let him pick you up. 

He gently gathered you in his arms and slowly picked you up. You leaned into him, careful to keep your arm away from his white shirt. 

"We will get through this (y/n). John will patch up and you can put on your pajamas and  we'll get you to bed, okay?"

You nodded again him and closed your eyes. He'll make it better. He always does.


	3. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John patch you up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to decide if this is the last chapter or not. If you want me to continue, send me a message. Stay safe, my lovelies!

Sherlock carefully held you in his arms and carried you to the bathroom, where John had set out his first aid kit. He set you down on the floor and you cradled your injured arm to your chest. You were embarrassed. 

"Would you like me to stay?" Sherlock inquired softly in his low timber voice.

You closed your eyes and weighed both sides. You wanted him here, but you didn't want him to see. In the end, your desired to be comforted won. You quickly nodded and sank to the floor, Sherlock helping you down gently. You quickly held your arm out towards John as he put on gloves. You cried silently as he started cleaning your arm. Sherlock gently cradled you in his lap, petting your hair. You zoned out, going somewhere in your mind where it was quiet. You didn't want to be here. You were ashamed and exhausted. You knew that Sherlock would take care of you. 

Sherlock quickly noticed that you were dissociating and informed John so that he wouldn't make any sudden loud noises. You easily startled when dissociated.  

"She doesn't have any other scars or marks." John assessed as he finished and checked the rest of you. 

"I know she doesn't. I should have noticed this." Sherlock berated himself.

"You had a case Sherlock. Besides, she was in class all day. I didn't notice either until I found her in the kitchen." He sighed as he finished. 

You had fallen asleep in Sherlock's lap. Sherlock carried you to bed. He noticed that you felt lighter than you did a few weeks ago. He carefully put you in bed and left the room. He called Lestrade and informed him that the murderer was the cook, obviously, and he that he would be unavailable for the rest of the day. He sat on the couch while John sat in the chair. Silence blanketed the room. Sherlock went through every memory he had of you two in the past month, grasping for any indication of why you had relapsed. The detective made a realization. 

"John, she felt lighter than she did a few weeks ago. This is more than just a relapse." Sherlock realized. 

"I want to evaluate her." John stated. 

"NO." Sherlock immediately refused. 

"She doesn't have to talk. I can give her a questionnaire. She needs help!" John argued. 

"John, the last time I tried to make her talk to me about this, she shut down completely. She didn't speak for a week and she got worse. It has the potential to hurt more than help. I agree that she does need help. I will approach the subject when she wakes up, but if she starts to shut down, that's it.  " Sherlock decisively state. 

"I'll have an evaluation ready as well as a few contacts if she doesn't want to speak to me." John offered. 

They were both determined to help you, if you were willing to receive it. Now all they had to do was wait. 

 


End file.
